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Courage and Carps
The Sunscale Tavern ---- ::A somewhat young Tavern is that named the Sunscale, one drawn into creation from the blank canvas that was the basic Sweetwater Tavern before it. Suffice to say, with backing throughout 626 ATA from Sahna Nillu, the founder of Sweetwater Fields, and some anonymous funding from House Kahar, the Sunscale Tavern has flourished into something special indeed. ::Devoted to a playful benediction of the Sunscale Carp - one of Fastheld's most prized fish, found only in waters close to Sweetwater - the Sunscale Tavern combines the modern with the traditional in a blend that results in pure satin. The walls have been crafted from a curious shade of oyster gray stone imported directly from Nillu's Lode; curious because the stone features imperfections - namely black and white flecks and veins - that actually enhance the aesthetics of the stone tenfold. ::These walls are supported by smooth-hewn beams of oak, a deep reddish-brown in color, polished to a fine sheen that speaks of professional craftsmanship and skill. Oak tables are evenly placed within the tavern's main room, these sharing the same rich color that the support beams hold, with each holding four chairs around them. Candle holders in the middle of each table add a degree of ornamentation, and provide a dull yet cosy level of light and warmth when night has fallen over sweetwater. ::Decorations depicting Sunscale Carp themselves can be found everywhere: Brass figurines remain scattered along the walls between flowing tapestries and detailed paintings of Sunscale Carp, Sunscale Carp, and even more Sunscale Carp! ::A [-shaped counter rests near to the main door of the Tavern from where Kalia Clearwater watches over her establishement, while a trio of tavern maids - one curvy, one busty, and one young and svelte - serve those few patrons that drop by the whittle away the hours. Stained-glass windows, these again harboring Sunscale Carp motifs - permit colored light to shine through during the day, while hiding those within from those without behind a screen of clouded rainbows. '' ---- Benedict answers, "Ale please," to the question before asking one of his own. "And why's this place surprise you mi'lady,if you don't mind me asking that is. It's just a tavern after all, not like it's any different than the others around if you can see past all the fish they gots in here." Celeste laughs softly, the Mikin surprisingly in good spirits today and the circles missing from beneath her sea-green eyes. "Well, I find myself usually in the Sprouting Keg or the Dove, Master Thatcher. there is an absence of fish there." She raises a hand to flag down one of the tendresses, this one rather busty. "Could we have two apple ales," she requests of the woman, subtly beginning to move through the room again towards the fireplace. Benedict's attention is diverted from the conversation for a brief moment or two by the tendress brought over by the noblewoman's wave. "Oh... um yeah, I would think so," he offers when he drags his wandering eyes back to something a bit more appropriate. "No fish, probably a good thing indeed mi'lady." Celeste, seeming to have missed the man's appraisal of the tendress, waves a hand towards one of the tables. "I'm sure it shall only take a few moments," she offers as the tendress hurries off again. The woman already making her way to the kitchen, and pausing here and there to be drawn in by another last minute order. "Have you been able to think more on that sword we spoke of, Master Thatcher? I must claim ignorance of such weaponry," she states candidly, lowering into one of the chairs at the suggested table. Benedict spares the serving girl once last look and then makes his way over to the table to sit down. "I have, and that's why I was on my way to the market today. I've not been able to get good enough materials for it from the folks I like to buy from so I was going to see what I could find to use there mi'lady. Celeste waves a hand dismissively to the air. "Such skill is worth the wait, Master Thatcher. We've had no need for him to go throwing himself or another horse into battle," the woman smiles. "Does he do a lot of that mi'lady?" Benedict asks, dropping his attention to the table rather than look the woman in the eye or elsewhere. "Seems like a waste to go throwing yourself into fighting with others just for the heck of it mi'lady. "He was trying to protect some of his friends in East Leg. Foolhardy," corrects Celeste gently, "is what I would define his actions that day. But who knows, perhaps he shall chose to be a knight one day... or follow his heart's desire. How has East Leg been, Master Thatcher? Well, I would hope." Benedict nods as he listens and only looks back up when the question is asked. "Good as it can be mi'lady I suppose. I don't spend much time out and about unless it's to be getting something to work with or a bite to eat outside the keep now and then. I hear folks talk about things and I've no clue what they're talking about since I don't pay no attention to it all really. I just mind myself and do what I need to do." "Such is a good way to live at times, Master Thatcher," Celeste replies, offering a smile when Benedict glances up. "Hopefully, there have been no more outbursts that have robbed you of your sleeping chambers. I was never able to apologize for intruding upon your kindness when Master Songbird was injured...though, if you had not know, and I've just told you of my err. Then I feel even more foolish." Benedict looks puzzled and waits a minute before answering. "I... um... I didn't know he'd gotten himself hurt. Well, at least I don't remember knowing it. That ain't saying much though 'cause I can be pretty forgetful when I put my mind to it." Celeste colors slightly. "Ah," she mummers, "well then, I guess it is to play the fool today. We had been told by the guards to allow him to rest in one particular room, and did not realize it was yours. I'm truly sorry for the intrusion, and now the belated confession." Benedict listens and then shrugs. "No harm I suppose mi'lady. This is the first that I think I'd heard of it but it's not like I've anything in there to be hiding like some folks do. I just hope there weren't any of my work clothes in there to stink up the place is all. I was probably just somewhere else at the time." "No, the room was pristine, and I feel mortified that you should find out this way," Celeste says. The tendress's return allowing the noblewoman to look away and hide the blush to her cheeks. Two ales are quickly deposited on the table, and the woman is quick to take up the coins that the Mikin digs out of the pouch from earlier. "Seems, I may need to buy you more than one drink then, Master Thatcher," she chirps, trying to catch the earlier playfulness. Benedict laughs and shakes his head, managing not to stare at the server for much more than a moment. "You can do as you like mi'lady. I'm just glad it wasn't a mess. But then, I've no dirty little secrets like I said already so please don't worry yourself about it mi'lady. This here's more'n enough, really." Celeste bobs her head quickly, "if you say so, Master Thatcher." She reaches for the mug, color still tinging her cheeks and the tips of her ears. "No, your room was well tended," offers the noblewoman softly. Benedict says, "Thank you kindly for that mi'lady. I've never been someone to collect a lot of finery to wear or keep in a room but then, I never put much into having any one place to stay until mi'lord Lomasa made me the offer than he did." "If you were to ever to see the rectory, then you would see where are agree on such matters," replies Celeste candidly. "Besides the armor from my time as a scourge, there is little to know that one truly lives there." Benedict blinks at this and stops the drink that he is about to take. "Your armor?" he asks, more than a little puzzled. "You were one of them mi'lady?" Celeste blinks in surprise, her own drinking arrested by the question. "You... you did not know," she inquires, wonder and surprise unable to be hidden from the Mikin's voice. "Yes, I... I was raised in the Church since I was a small girl," she stammers over the confession. Unable to drop her gaze the freelander's face. Benedict shakes his head. "I never paid any attention to them or any of the Blades or guards in armor until they found a reason to get into my business or unless they were looking for thieves or crooks at one of their roadside stops," he answers with a similar expression. Celeste looks down to her mug. One hand slipping away to fidget with the black corset at her waist. A resting mongoose encircles a lit torch, stitched in silver. "I was from the Stanchion," she states firmly. A hint of pride at the name, and defiance flashing to her averted gaze. "But yes, I was a scourge for nearly nineteen years." Benedict and Celeste sit near the fireplace of the tavern, enjoying a couple of mugs of ale. Though there seems to be a cloud that recently has passed along the table, the amiable conversation taking on a sense of seriousness. Benedict listens and takes a drink as he meant to do earlier. "I kinda miss the church and all even though I was never big on making big deal of it and such. These days I don't know what to make of all these marked people running around and such." The tavern door opens slowly to admit Tyder complete in her daily feminine wear and a layer of dust from travel. She brushes her skirt absently with one hand as the other pushes the door shut behind her, and wanders casually toward the bar. She slips herself into a stool and reaches up to tuck an escaped lock of hair behind one ear while placing her order. Once this is complete, her watery blue eyes turn outward the examine the tavern's decor with an air of wonder common only to new visitors. "The Mark actually is a rather brave move for those who are touched, Master Thatcher. You see," Celeste leans forward. Her fidgeting dying away in the light of the turn of the conversation. "They've had the courage to step and show Fastheld that they carry this taint. But it is not the taint that makes them creatures of shadow. Such is the actions of man, and if they lead a life of corruption, secrets and lies, then they are more likely to fall to the siren's call of the shadow." Benedict says, "And for those of us that happen to know someone that decides to go and put this mark on? How're we supposed to act? Scares the light right out of me it does. Specially when it's someone I kinda had an eye to get to know better." Tyder Pondwater is seated on a stool at the bar with her fingers curled around a mug of ale. She gazes about the tavern to take in the sight of its decorations and its patrons, and her eyes linger on the two - Celeste and Benedict - conversing at a table a few paces away. Their words drift toward the smith, and she raises her brows before turning back to her drink and her solitude. Celeste taps a finger to the side of the mug. "Did you know this person before the Mark, Master Thatcher? If so, do you believe that by them stepping up and admitting to the shadow taint, that it has lessened them," she prompts gently. The Mikin takes a deep breath, tapping the mug again. "We are raised that the Shadow is evil, master. That remains truth, but one is not allowed to chose their own birth, or the burdens that they bear at such a time. The Mark is important for it is like a man who carries a scabbard. The Marked do not hide the danger that they could pose, but neither does it mean that they *will* be that danger. It is only by their strength of heart that they are able to define this path." The door opens abruptly as Varal Mikin exerts a little more force than necessary than necessary to accomplish the task. The man steps in and to the side, allowing the door to close and making sure he doesn't block the entrance or exit. Crossing his arms, he looks around the tavern lazily. Benedict says, "I knew'em," with a nod of his head. "Can't say that I knew'em all that well but they didn't have no mark on their face, that's for sure. Now I don't know how I feel about'em. They don't /seem/ like a bad person and all but how do I really know?"" Tyder continues to sip quietly at her ale, pursing her lips a bit and swishing her feet beneath her skirt, causing the fabric to billow out with her movements. At the entrance of yet another patron, she looks toward the door briefly to size up the entrant; howevering, finding him unfamiliar, returns to her drink in silence. "Now that is the part you must ask yourself, Master Benedict. One cannot tell your heart how to feel about another person, nor does it change the fear that we feel when confronted with the shadow. But it takes strength of character to step up and accept such a fate," explains Celeste. "This friend of yours has condemned themselves to a life of being mistrusted and even ostracized from the friends and family they have known with this one action of bravery, Master Thatcher. Yet, they were willing to step up, and hold truth of the taint within themselves." Benedict mulls this over for a bit as he takes a drink of the ale in his hands and then sighs. "I suppose you're right there mi'lady. Seems like it would be a lot harder for someone to take the mark than just leave it be. I just don't want none of'em turning me into something unnatural is all." Varal bites his lower lip as he takes a couple of steps in. He looks around a little more, then grins slightly as he finds a familiar face. He slowly moves towards Celeste, clearing his throat so as not to startle anyone. Discarding pretense, Tyder turns on her stool just as the newest patron advances toward the familiar Mikin. Frowning, Tyder pauses halfway out of her stool and watches for a moment, mug in hand. A last minute change of mind finds her seated firmly once more with one arm crossed over her chest while the other lifts her drink to her lips. She looks prepared to watch and listen without interruption. The shifting of movement catching the corner of the former scourge's gaze. She looks towards Tyder, raising a hand to draw the woman back. Though the words she speak are lowered for her companions ears. "I believe such would be more likely to happen from one who refuses such a Mark than one who embraces it," she states simply. Another quick wave of her wrist to Tyder. Benedict nods his head again and sighs before taking another drink and then turning to look in the direction of the noblewoman's lifted hand. Varal doesn't miss the apparent attention of Tyder, eyes flicking back and forth. He smirks at the women, as though not particularly worried. "Mind if I join you, cousin, if I'm not interrupting anything?" he adds, directing his voice at Celeste. The smirk grows a little wider. "Have you been making friends?" he jokes. And so she is hailed. Tyder watches Celeste beckon her twice before she responds with a nod, abandoning her seat at the bar to circle toward the lady's table. She approaches from the opposite side as Varal, glancing between Celeste and Benedict and finally to Varal. Despite the overheard words, smiles to all as she draws near enough to rest a hand on the back of an empty chair. "Good day my Lord, Lady Priest, good sir," she greets cordially, keeping her tone quiet and polite. Benedict sets his ale back on the table and stands, both for the arrival of the nobleman and the other woman seated at the bar. "Hello mi'lord, didn't mean to be rude but I didn't see you coming up there mi'lord." Celeste's eyes widen at not finding the smith in breeches but instead skirts. "Oh my," she exclaims in wonder. "You look wonderful, Mistress Pondwater. I almost did not recognize you, please, join us." With that she waves a hand towards one of the vacate chairs and turning to smile up at her cousin. "Lord Varal, I actually tripped over Master Thatcher and nearly made him spill into the dirt. So yes, I guess you could say that I've been making friends today. And it would be an honor to have you join us," she states firmly. Clearly, the noblewoman seeing no issue with making the small twosome a foursome as she raises a hand to flag down the tendress again. Varal finds a seat nearby Celeste, though he offers Tyder a polite nod before seating himself. For a moment, it seems like he might recognize the woman, then he shakes his head. "Well, cousin, I hope your found resolution for your problem. It looks like a propensity for causing trouble might be a Mikin trait after all," he jests. Tyder watches for a moment as the older man takes his leave before she, too, slips herself into a seat next to Celeste. With a soft smile, she murmurs, "Thank you, my Lady. It is a project of sorts run by two very amusing people, and we are still gauging its effectiveness." As the other Mikin begins to speak, the smith falls quiet and places her drink carefully on the table before her before folding her hands in her lap. Celeste laughs, shaking her head. "Such aspersions cannot rule my life, cousin. As to trouble," she quirks a conspiratorial smile to the smith before looking back to Varal. "I believe that is a Mikin quality matched only by our stubbornness. Have you had a chance to meet Mistress Pondwater?" The younger Mikin waves a hand to the dress-bedazzled smith, turning to address her once more. "You /do/ look lovely, Mistress. So please give my compliments to your tailors." '' The evening whiled away in laughter and business as the foursome continues to speak on matters of swords, dancing and dungeons. Who know what would come from the mouth of good ale and good companionship. ---- ''Return to Season 6 (2007) Category:Logs